


Saving Molly

by 221silentwordsnotspoken



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Teenlock, teen!lock
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-09-06
Updated: 2013-09-29
Packaged: 2017-12-25 18:37:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 8
Words: 3,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/956380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/221silentwordsnotspoken/pseuds/221silentwordsnotspoken





	1. Chapter 1

Molly tugged her sweater closer around her shoulders as she made her way to Biology class. The night before had been rough, and she didn’t want anyone, especially her lab partner, Sherlock. He saw everything, and knew everything. Well, almost. It was halfway through the school year, and he had yet to pick up on her and everything that was going on. This was the slightest comfort.

She sat down at her desk and pulled out her books just as he walked in.

Sherlock grabbed two labs from the front of the room and sat down next to Molly, giving her one of the packets and a brilliant smile.

“Good morning, Molly Hooper,” he said and sat next to her. “Dissections… right up your alley, huh?”

Molly dropped her chin and smiled a little. “Y-yeah. I, uh, I-I’m, really looking forward to it.”

Sherlock then frowned and peered at Molly. Something was wrong. He could tell, but he wasn’t sure what.

The teacher came to the front of the classroom and told them to start working.

And so the two went back to their lab station and got ready for the lab. It was a pig dissection, something Molly had looked forward to all year. She found dissections really interesting, and this was the biggest animal she’d done.

She began setting up the scalpels and scissors and other tools, and Sherlock chose this to be a chance for him to investigate.

Molly Hooper. Her hair was pulled back as it usually was, in a pony tail. She was wearing a cream jumper with small flowers all over it, jeans, a bracelet, sterling silver earrings-probably mother’s- and her usual flats. She seemed perfectly healthy, free of coughs and sneezes, and was showing no signs of PMS. So what exactly was wrong?

And then he saw it: a faint bruise on her shoulder, near to her collar bone. It took him a while to notice properly as she had been moving, but when he stood a little closer, he noticed it was in the shape of a finger, as if someone had grabbed her very tight.

He reached out and gently touched her shoulder. Molly jumped, squeaking lightly. Noticing where his finger was, she shrugged away and pulled her jumper around her tightly.

“What happened?” Sherlock asked quietly.

Molly just looked at him, remembering the night before.

 _She had just finished her homework and was sitting in the living room, watching TV. Mum was cleaning up and Dad was out. Just as Molly turned off the TV, her dad came in. He sets his stuff down and stares at her. Molly runs to the kitchen and gets a glass of water, and her mum just gives her a look, telling her not to do anything wrong. Molly ducks into the living room and hands her dad the water and settles down with a book. He narrows his eyes. “What nonsense are you reading today then?” Molly holds the book up. “_ The Hobbit, _” she says. “Is it required?” She hears her dad ask, and she shook her head. “Then why are you reading it? Shouldn’t you be doing something more useful? Keep reading books like that and you’re not going to go anywhere in life. What with your grades, I’m surprised you’ve even made it this far.” Molly furrowed her eyebrows together. “M-my grades are fine…” He just snorted. “Yeah, they’re ‘just fine.’ I guess if you want to be, what is it? A pathologist? Guess you don’t need a degree to cut people open, d’ya? Lazy bum.” Molly shook her head. “N-no, you need a degree… and I am going to uni, you know that.” Her dad just shook his head. “Whatever. You know, no man will ever love you if you keep that attitude. Fat, lazy, useless, b**** that you are.” Molly bit her lip, holding back tears. She didn’t dare say anything. Her dad looks up at her and raises an eyebrow. “What? Someone hit you? Stop crying. Go get me dinner, or else…” And Molly didn’t need to be told what the “or else” meant. She rushed to the kitchen again and brought it out. She set it in front of her dad, and he grabbed her by the shoulders, threw her against the couch and slapped her a good few time. “That’ll give you something to cry about,” he said before tucking into the food. Molly raced off to her room and curled up in her bed, crying herself to sleep._

“Nothing,” she says to Sherlock before turning back to the pig.

Sherlock turns in front of her. “Molly. Something’s wrong. You can tell me.”

Molly bit her lip. She couldn’t do this much more. She turned and ran out of the room, wiping tears as she went.

Sherlock furrowed his eyebrows together. John, his best friend, came up and nudged him. “What’d you do this time?”

Sherlock shook his head. “Not me. Something’s wrong, John. Something’s wrong with Molly…” 


	2. Chapter 2

Molly raced out to a utility closet and shut the door behind her. Hot tears ran down her face and she couldn’t stop shuddering. Sherlock had _seen._ And if he saw, then he would deduce. And he would know. Sherlock would know everything. It scared her so much, and she knew it shouldn’t, but it did. What would happen when she got home? When her father found out someone knew this? What if he threatened to kill himself again? What if he hurt her more? Molly crumpled to the floor and did her best to hold the sobs in.

 

Sherlock had asked leave to go look for Molly, and the teacher complied. He could tell that she was also rather worried, and even more so when Sherlock and John both assured her that Sherlock hadn’t said anything off color. The two spilt up to look for the missing girl. Sherlock looked around and could smell a bit of Molly in the air. She didn’t really smell of anything, but he could tell it was her, just by the smell of the air alone. Molly Hooper smelled a little bit of honey and lavender and clean linen. He wouldn’t ever admit it, but it was by far his favorite smell.

He stopped short next to a door labeled “Utility”. There was a muffled sound coming from inside it- the sound of someone crying, the sound of Molly crying. Sherlock pressed his ear to the door and sighed softly. “Molly?”

 

Molly sniffled when she heard Sherlock’s voice. She tugged her sweater around her shoulders tight and shook her head. “G-go… go away, Sh-Sherlo-lock. P-please…”

Sherlock carefully picked the lock and opened the door. He sat down in front of her. “Why did you run away?”

Molly just shook her head. She pulled her legs up tight and pressed her face into her knees. Why did he have to be here? Why was he doing this?

Sherlock scoot a bit closer and gently put a hand on the top of her head, petting her hair gently. He wasn’t great at comforting people, most definitely not Molly, but he figured this was how it was done.

“Molly, is someone hurting you? Who is it?”

Molly holds herself tighter, and John appears in the doorway to see the pair. He squats down as well and wraps an arm around Molly. She presses her face into his neck and he rubs her back gently. “Molly, whatever’s happening, you need to tell us. We will help. If someone is hurting you, please tell. Please. We just want to keep you safe, alright?” Molly just nodded and pulled away.

“It’s nothing. Really… Forget it… “ Molly stood and brushed past John.

The two boys frowned and followed her back to class.

 


	3. Chapter 3

Molly goes through the day as if nothing’s gone wrong. She spends time with her friends, laughs, smiles, jokes around, as if everything’s perfect. Internally, however, she’s terrified, and doing whatever she can to both keep from going home and also keep from angering her father. When she got home, there wasn’t a repeat of the night before, which was an incredible relief, but the things that were said… she couldn’t even think them. She knew she was worthless. She knew she didn’t matter and that she didn’t count. She knew nobody would ever love her. She knew she was a big mistake. She knew she’d just ruined everyone’s lives. She knew. So why was she being reminded, again and again and again? That night, before bed, she curled up tight around herself and cried once more. She felt so weak and broken. She felt like… her whole existence was a mistake. She felt like she deserved to die. Not for the first time, Molly Hooper went to sleep wishing that one day, her father would snap completely, and in the midst of it all, he would kill her.

Sherlock goes through the day wondering and thinking about Molly. The facts were as such:

Molly Hooper had a bruise in the shape of a finger on her shoulder.

Molly Hooper ran away crying when the bruise was brought up.

Molly Hooper had locked herself into a closet and was sobbing.

Therefore, it could be concluded, Molly Hooper was being abused somehow. Whether it was the first time or not, he didn’t know for sure, as she’d never made any sort of indication that anything had ever been wrong before, but he did know that somebody was hurting her. He knew for sure that somebody was hurting Molly, and in doing so, this person had scarred her, had terrified her. But how was he going to narrow down who the person was? He’d not gotten a proper look at the bruise. It was reddish, so not incredibly traumatizing, but it was painful, and he could tell that underneath, she was hurting as well. So she was grabbed and possibly pushed. Based on how large the bruise was, he could also deduce that the perpetrator was a male, probably older. Who could fit that description? A boyfriend? Her father? A Teacher? A Friend? He recalls that Molly had a boyfriend a few months ago, Jim something--Moriarty. Jim Moriarty had dated her. But would he hurt Molly? He definitely was a bully, and had picked on plenty of kids, boys and girls alike. Moriarty was incredibly high up on his suspect list. She had broken up with him as it was, so there was motive. Now the question was… how does he find out for sure?

John went through the day as he did most, just more worried. Something was definitely wrong with Molly, and there were clear signs that she’d been incredibly upset. Perhaps things weren’t right at home. He figured that was the case, because Molly was usually such a happy, lovely girl, and she got along with everyone. His girlfriend, Mary, talked about her a lot. They’d been best friends since primary school. He’d come to know that Molly actually never got upset quickly. He’d noticed she loved the dissections they did in Biology. He’d even seen that she was on good terms with all her exes, including the douche, James something. There was nothing else to it. Molly seemed rather reluctant to talk about it, but based on the events of the past day, he was sure that it wasn’t anything good. He talked to Mary, and they both decided to talk to her, to see if she would tell. If not, they would hope and pray and do their very best to help her however they could.

**A/N: Sorry for the late update! I’ve been INCREDIBLY busy today. I’m booked every day this week, so the next few days, updates will be around this time, if that’s all right. I know, I have another fic to work on, but I want to focus on this one for the time being. This is an incredibly difficult story to write, if I’m being honest, but I need to do this.**

**I’m very grateful for the reception this has received though, and I love all of you, those that have followed the story, favorited it, left reviews, etc. THANK YOU.**

**Take care, and have a wonderful day/night/evening/afternoon/etc.** **J**

**xP**


	4. Chapter 4

Sherlock went to school the next day with fire in his eyes. He was good at being the quiet kid in the back that nobody paid attention to, so information gathering was quick and easy. His main suspect, Moriarty, always ate lunch in the far end of the cafeteria with his group of “followers”. He spent his lunch there, instead of the chemistry lab, and watched. He knew Moriarty probably knew he was there, but didn’t care. He sat hidden for the entirety of lunch until Moriarty and a sandy haired boy stood up and left. Sherlock didn’t need to follow them to know that they’d be in the bathroom, probably snogging. It was obvious the two were together and happy as well. So… why would Jim have anything against Molly? He wouldn’t. So… who could be hurting Molly?

He made his way slowly back to where John, Mary, and Molly were seated. He slid down in his seat and sulked. John raised an eyebrow at him. “What happened? Did Mrs. Worcher get tired of you sulking about in her lab?” Sherlock just glared at him.

“Don’t be ridiculous, John. Of course not. I just felt it would be a little bit more… socially acceptable… if I spent lunch in the lunchroom. With my, um, my friends.” Sherlock coughed over the last word, causing John, Mary, and Molly to all smile. John decided to test him a bit more.

“Since when did you care about socially acceptable?”  He pried, poking the other boy in the ribs.

Sherlock flinched, slightly tickled. “Since never. Can I not sit here at lunch then?” He crossed his arms and stared at Molly, asking her for her permission to stay.

Molly giggled and shook her head a little. (Sherlock wouldn’t admit it, but her smile made him feel almost euphoric.) “Yes, yes, you can sit here, Sherlock.”

Mary interjected. “But why _now_ of all times to choose?” She waggled an eyebrow at him and narrowed her eyes.

John wrapped an arm around Mary and Sherlock rolled his eyes. “Why not now?” He himself scooted closer to Molly, as clandestinely as he could.

Mary noticed and took note of it in her mind. She engaged in a conversation with Molly and John, and Sherlock took this as an opportunity to see Molly a little bit more up close. The bruise was gone, and he could tell that she’d covered it up with makeup. He averted his eyes quickly and busied himself in looking bored.


	5. Chapter 5

Weeks passed since that day, and Sherlock spent every lunch period next to Molly. She wondered what exactly was up with him, but wasn’t complaining.

Things at home hadn’t calmed down though. Molly would come to school each day with a new bruise, cut, burn, or sore body part. Not that she’d express this to anyone. No. But the pain of it all made it hard to smile when Sherlock seemed to be trying so hard. Honestly, she loved him so much for trying. Even if it was in… odd ways.

He’d made her help him dissect a dead cat; study poisons, and helped her with her homework. It was bizarre how much he spoke at times. It’d be either too much or too little, and he was always flustered. Somehow, Molly found herself falling for him a little. He gave her such a peace of mind, and occasionally, his hand would brush against hers, or he would accidentally touch her shoulder, and apologize immediately as she flinched away. To Sherlock, it was becoming clear just how bad it was for Molly, and how he’d done nothing. He watched how each day, her eyes grew duller and duller, and her smiles were more forced. The sight of her made his chest pang and he just wanted to help. He knew he’d not be able to do anything.

After a particularly okay week (meaning one where Molly didn’t have any bruises or visible marks), Molly decided she was going to be confident with herself. Instead of wearing her normal slacks/jumper/loafers, she opted for a skirt she’d had sitting in her closet for weeks, and a nice top that wasn’t very formal. She topped it with her cherry sweater and left for school. School went by well, and she received many compliments on her lovely attire. Mary especially wouldn’t stop GUSHING over how beautiful Molly looked and Molly swore she saw Sherlock’s jaw drop when he saw her.

“You look interesting,” he said, raising an eyebrow at her. “Any particular need to look lovely? Is there a new boy?” He took a swig of his coffee and looked at her through his dark eyelashes. She blushed and shook her head. “I-I just wanted to look n-nice…” Sherlock nodded. “Well. You have succeeded in your endeavor. Now, please, will you pass that sample?” Molly complied and turned away so he couldn’t see her blush and smile.


	6. IMPORTANT Author's Note

**AUTHOR'S NOTE**

**This next chapter is VERY trigger heavy. This fic is mostly T rated, but if there is going to be a chapter even close to M, this is it.**

*****~***~***These are the triggers***~***~*****

**Sexual Abuse**

**Sexual Assault**

**Rape**

**Nonconsensual Sex**

**Sex**

**Incest**

**Child Abuse**

**I, personally, highly suggest that nobody read this chapter, but I want to include this one scene as a part of the story.**

**If any of the above triggers trigger you or makes you uncomfortable, just skip this chapter. Please. For your mental health and well being. Skip Chapter 6, and move on to Chapter 7.**

**Thanks, and take care.**

**xP**


	7. Chapter 6

**TRIGGER HEAVY CHAPTER**

 

Molly went home happy and was pleased to see nobody home when she arrived. She set her books down in her room and started her homework. The day was the best she’d had in months, and she hoped it stayed that way. Still, she knew the inevitable of her parents coming home from work, and the cycle starting over.

After a precious hour of loneliness, Molly heard the front door open, and the heavy footsteps of her father coming into the house. Her heart plunged and she squeezed her eyes shut as the door was slammed mercilessly against the walls. She knew that he knew nobody was home except for her, and the thought terrified her.

She could hear the footsteps coming close to her room, and an anxiety attack rose upon her. She kept herself as calm as she could and kept at her homework, until she heard the click of her bedroom door being shut. Her every instinct was telling her to run, to stand up and bolt out of the room, out of the flat, neighborhood- get as far away as possible. But she sat frozen in the familiar fear that came upon her every time she was left alone with the monster of a man that was approaching her.

Rough hands pushed her books to the side, and her body against the bed. The cool breeze of her fan touched her skin where her clothes had been. Struggles lead to red, smarting skin, and her body was restricted under the larger one one holding her down. Her eyes squeezed shut and she heard the click of a belt being undone, and it took everything she had not to cry as her body was violated. Pain seared throughout her, inside and out, and she struggled again. Run away. Run away. Don’t hurt me. Stop. Stop stop stop. Her nails dug into the palm of hand as she squirmed and tried to pull away, and a handprint glowed red on her cheek. The pain grew, more, and more, and more, and words were said, but her humiliation and pain wouldn’t allow her to hear them. Go away. No. Stop. Please. Her eyes weren’t able to stay shut for so long, but she refused to look upwards at the face that was so close. Her eyes strayed to the side, and then squeezed shut again. She could feel herself being freed, and the sound of a zipper zipping up, words being said again, and her bedroom door closing, let her know it was over.

Molly’s fists clenched and hot tears rolled down her cheeks and neck as she straightened herself out, then rolled over to her side, clutching the bear on her bed that signified any innocence she might have been left with. The occurrence wasn’t the first, and she knew it’d not be the last.  Everything hurt, physically and mentally, and she wanted nothing more than to be dead. And with death in mind, and tears on her face, she fell asleep in a nightmare ridden coma. 


	8. Chapter 7

Sherlock walked into the lunch room the next day, fairly certain he’d found the reason for Molly’s misfortune. He’d spent the entire night trying to figure this out, searching through his mind palace, analyzing everything he could. He couldn’t get Molly’s smile and laughter out of his head from the day before, and he wished she was just as happy today. He caught sight of her in the hallway, near her locker, and he approached her, a boyish smile on his face.   
“Morn-” He stopped short. Molly had looked up at him and there was no life in her eyes. The mirth of the day before had left her face. Still, there was a forced smile on her face and she wrapped her arms around him. Surprised, Sherlock hugged her back. “Everything alright?” he asked her. Molly nodded. “Yes. I’m just really tired, you know? That chemistry assignment really killed me last night…” Sherlock nodded, vaguely believing her. Molly shifted her backpack onto her sore back. She winced a little and shook her head, ignoring it. She looked up at Sherlock and smiled, a little bit more genuinely and brightly. “Come on. John and Mary are probably waiting.” Sherlock smiled back at her and nodded. “Yeah, let’s go.”


End file.
